


An Oft Paid Price

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, F/M, Flashback, Fourth of July, Gen, Natasha has Fangirls, PTSD, Tony Angst, Tony Gives Terrible Gifts, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, heat wave, steve's birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1944534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PTSD doesn't care that it's Steve's birthday.</p><p>PTSD doesn't care that Tony just wants to enjoy the fourth of July festivities. </p><p>PTSD always rears its ugly head at the worst possible time.</p><p>Fortunately, Tony's not dealing with it alone, even if he sometimes thinks that'd be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Oft Paid Price

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages and ages ago because I wanted to write a realistic PTSD fic, where the character didn't recover immediately once it was over, where it had lingering effects. I'm not 100% sure this is exactly what I wanted, but I've been fussing with it for ages without coming up with anything better, so I'm letting it go. Maybe it works better than I think!
> 
> Also, this would have been better posted last weekend, oops.

“No, seriously,” Tony says, as they join the throngs of people carrying the scent of sunscreen and the occasional hint of coconut into Central Park, “you are unreal. Your birthday is _actually_ July fourth. I thought that was just a marketing ploy, at most the day they made you or whatever. But you, Steve Rogers, were born on the fourth. _Pre_ -Captain America.”

Pepper smiles as Steve rolls his eyes because he's been hearing this from Tony every day for a little over two weeks now, ever since he'd let it slip that his birthday was coming up. He's wearing a plain white tee and khaki shorts with flip flops, sweat glistening at his temples. “Yes,” he says with strained patience. “I was. Now can you please let it go?”

July fourth has come to New York in the midst of a heat wave and the city swelters, heat shimmering off of the blacktop and every car on the road. The humidity makes the heat tangible, something that can be felt on the tongue, tasting of metal and the salt of sweat. Pepper's wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat that keeps the sun off her shoulders, a light white sundress printed with blue flowers, and strappy sandals that let the breeze slip through her toes as she walks. Every step they take into Central Park lowers the temperature another fraction of a degree, until they're fully beneath the trees and it's almost comfortable.

Tony glances at her, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead behind his Aviators. He's just joined them from a GQ photo shoot and he's dressed in a sleek black pinstriped suit. He's glittering around the hairline and damp at his temples, but he looks otherwise unaffected by the heat. Pepper can't see how he can stand it. It's too hot for that much clothing.

“Pep, he wants me to let it go,” Tony says.

“I empathize,” she replies dryly, “deeply.”

“What's this one make you?” Clint asks from somewhere behind them. “Ninety-four?”

Steve flushes a little and shrugs, somehow managing to look far smaller than his six-and-four feet. “Doesn't seem fair to count the years I was on ice. I didn't do much living then, y'know? I don't  _feel_ ninety-four, anyways.” He scuffs his foot in the dirt and Pepper just wants to hug him until he's smiling again. He really is too precious for words when he gets like this.

“Logical,” Tony announces. “Okay, twenty-fourth birthday it is. You know that means you can't rent a car all by yourself until next year, right?”

Steve quirks a brow at him. “Why would I do that? Betsy gets me around just fine.”

“Your motorcycle's name is _Betsy?_ ” Bruce says incredulously. “As in, Betsy Ross?”

Steve blinks. “I... Well, I didn't really think of it like that. It just seemed to fit her.”

“Un. Fucking. Believable,” Tony says, marveling at him. Then he turns and shouts out into the crowd jostling around them, “Captain America, here people! Birthday, the Fourth of July! Named his bike Betsy, didn't even occur to him that Betsy Ross is a _national icon._ True story! _”_

“ _Happy birthday!_ ” someone yells from far off and Thor's laughter booms through the park, rolling like thunder and Pepper's sure he doesn't know what Tony's talking about, but his tone is enough to understand that he's yanking Steve's chain and that's clearly good enough for Thor.

“Tony!” Steve hisses, and his face is starting to resemble a tomato. People are lighting up around them now, recognizing him and starting to point and raise their voices, and he pulls on a smile, waves. “Hi, sorry, I'm so sorry.” Tony grins wickedly and his eyebrows flash upward as someone recognizes him, too, and exclaims, _Tony Stark, that's Tony fucking Stark!_

“Right in one, except my middle name's not 'fucking',” Tony calls and the exclaimer, a kid in his early twenties, goes wide-eyed and pink and ducks down behind his friends who are poking their heads up curiously to look as they laugh.

“C'mon, Tony, language,” Steve admonishes. “There are kids everywhere.”

A girl on his left waves vigorously at Tony and yells, “ _I love you!_ ”

Tony laughs and blows her a kiss, winks salaciously. “All right, all right, chill out, Capsicle,” he says to Steve. “I'll watch my mouth if you stop being an old fuddy-duddy. If this is your twenty-fourth birthday, you better act like it.”

Pepper elbows him in the ribs, trying to stifle a smile. It's not working very well. “Stop encouraging them and stop tormenting Steve. It's his birthday and the team is supposed to be enjoying a day off. If you turn this into an impromptu photo op that's never going to happen.”

Tony flashes his innocent, wounded puppy eyes at her. “Hey, people get we're just here to enjoy ourselves like them. We haven't been mobbed yet, have we?”

Pepper gives him a pointed look when someone behind them breathes, “Can I get your autograph?”

Tony turns, his brightest, most charming smile in place, and says, “Sure thi...” He trails off, surprise crossing his features when his eyes land on Natasha, smiling cautiously at a teenaged girl who's holding out a silver Sharpie and the hem of her Black Widow tee-shirt.

“You're unbelievable,” the girl says, and the embarrassment on her face is almost enough to eclipse the stunned delight behind it. Her dark hair's cropped short and Pepper can see a red shape on the back of her neck that she's certain is an hourglass. “I just—you're my hero, I'm so sorry to bother you, I just saw you and I feel like a lunatic, but I just had to—”

Natasha's head cocks to the side ever-so-slightly. “Hush, I don't mind at all. What would you like it to say?”

The girl's mouth drops open, working wordlessly for a second before she finally squeaks, “Say?” Her eyes follow as Natasha touches the end of the Sharpie to her bottom lip, thinking, and grow larger still.

Another girl, several inches taller, leans forward from behind her and says, “Seriously, you can write anything. She's going to treasure it forever, even if it says _go jump off a bridge.”_

Clint lets out a startled laugh and tries to cover it with a cough and a stern expression. “Don't write that, Nat.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” another girl, this one blonde, mutters. “He calls her _Nat_ , that's presh.” Pepper's the one who laughs this time, turning to smother it in Tony's lapel. Tony snorts and moves his head until the corner of his mouth grazes Pepper's temple. She smiles, pressing into him as she watches over his shoulder.

Natasha leans forward, her free hand moving to help hold the shirt taut. The girl stares as she writes, barely breathing. When Natasha finishes, she eases back a little, rereads what she's written and then nods her head, recaps the Sharpie, and holds it out. “How's that?”

All three girls bend forward and Pepper elbows Tony in the ribs when Natasha's biggest fan lifts the shirt so they can all try to read it, and unthinkingly flashes the underwire of her bra. He coughs and wheezes, “Ow, Pep. I wasn't looking!”

“Mhm,” she mutters.

“ _Be flexible and you can survive anything_ ,” the tallest girl reads and Tony barely manages to choke back a giggle. “ _Natasha Romanova – Black Widow._ Wow. _”_

The blonde behind her glances up, past Natasha to Clint and says, _“_ You think I can get Hawkeye to sign my—”

“Oh my god, no, Chels, shut up!” the tallest squeals, smacking her. “Shut up shut up!”

The blonde cackles as the first girl looks at Natasha, swallowing thickly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Natasha smiles, her eyes soft and she nods. Clint loops his arm around her shoulders and throws the girls a two-fingered wave. Then the Avengers, Jane and Pepper ease back into the crowd and when they're out of earshot of the trio, Clint looks around and says, “Was that teenaged girl going to ask me to—”

“Totally,” Tony says, gleefully.

Clint grins lazily. “Still got it.”

Steve frowns. “I think the key phrase there is _'teenaged girl'.”_

Shooting a look over his shoulder, Tony says, “What did I say? Act your age. No more of this _disapproving dad_ shtick.”

“It's not like I'm _interested_ ,” Clint says. “It's just flattering knowing you're still hot enough to attract 'em that young. You'll understand when you're older.” He pauses and then covers his face with a hand. “Shit, I am getting old. What the hell.” Natasha laughs.

Tony rolls his eyes and tugs at the knot of his tie. “Welcome to the club, Barton,” he says cheerfully and then: “...It's hot as Satan's balls out here, isn't it?”

“I can't believe it's taken you this long to notice,” Pepper says and holds out her hand for the tie as he pulls it free.

“I _noticed_ ,” he says, like she's called him stupid. “I just haven't _lingered_ outside lately. I'm usually where there's _air conditioning._ Like any sane person, in summer, in New York.”

“You really don't get out much, do you,” she says, smiling as he pops the top button on his collar, quickly continuing to the two below it and then shrugging out of his jacket.

“Outside is overrated.” He glances at her as she catches the jacket and folds it over her arm, his expression apologetic. “Didn't mean for you to wind up carrying my shit, Pep.”

She smiles and pecks him on the lips. “Don't worry, you'll make it up to me.”

The rest of the Avengers (and Jane) drift off as they reach the first tents set up along the path, each floating enticing smells into the air. Pepper's bag has a long strap and she drapes Tony's jacket over the bag to keep it off her skin. When she raises her eyes, Tony's rolling his sleeves up and Pepper feels a little shiver crawl from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck. He has beautiful arms, sturdy and lined with muscle.

Tony catches her looking and his smile turns dark, promising. “Like what you see, Miss Potts?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You know that I do.”

He finishes with a little more flexing than is strictly necessary and Pepper's heart starts fluttering behind her breastbone, heat crawling into her chest, throat, cheeks. She knows the flush is easily visible on her fair skin and Tony's eyes track the color to her face. He steps right up against her, one hand smoothing down the back of the dress, stopping just short of her ass, the other cupping her jaw as he presses his lips to her throat. “Tony,” she says, but it doesn't sound much like the scolding she meant it to be.

“Yes?” he says lightly and nudges her earlobe with the tip of his nose.

“We're in public,” she reminds him and, if she sounds a little breathless, well, there's only so much she can take.

“That is an astute observation,” he replies and mouths at the base of her throat. Pepper's knees go a little bit weak and she digs a knuckle into his ribs, forcing him to pull back, the hand holding her in place moving to cover the now-smarting spot. “Ow! Hey, dirty pool,” he protests.

Pepper shoots him a look and brushes her hand over the wet spot on her neck as casually as she can, trying to ignore the way Tony's eyes follow. Someone lets out a catcall and she covers her face with a hand. “We've been over acceptable PDA, Tony.”

“Well, _sometimes_ ,” he says, sidling forward and curling his hands around her wrists, “you're just too delectable to resist.”

She huffs, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Tony kisses it.

“All right,” he says, casual as can be. “No more PDA. Come on. If I can't lick you up and down, I need an ice cream or something.”

The words are like an electric shock in the pit of her stomach, exactly as he means them to be and Pepper sucks in a breath, letting Tony slide his hand around hers and lead her forward, amidst the booths. Dear God, one of these days he's going to be the death of her.

He's derailed from his mission when they pass one tent that's oozing mouthwatering smells and find themselves with kebabs in hand a few minutes later. “Oh, god,” Tony groans. “It's too hot for this, but it's like goddamn _nirvana_.”

Pepper makes a noise of agreement, unwilling to postpone the next bite, even to sing its praises.

The sun is relentlessly blistering, but the crowds of people enjoying the holiday are even more relentlessly blithe. Children run through gaps between the adults, shrieking with laughter, and every new stall smells of something different and even more enticing. Someone must be selling water guns because Tony is hit with a narrow jet of water right between the eyes, Pepper tossing her head back with a laugh as responding streams of water cut across her back. It feels wonderful.

They're nearing the heart of the festivities, an enormous stage peeking out from above the trees and glinting in the sunlight when a stall up ahead starts billowing black smoke. “Stay back, stay back!” someone yells, “It's all right it's just a grease fire, just stay back and let the fire guys get it!”

Tony hesitates and steps back a little. “Pep, ah—” A slight twitch pulls at the corner of his right eye, the right side of his mouth as the smell of burning meat drifts over them. “Shit,” he mutters, his hand going tight around hers. “Pepper, I have to—”

She realizes a moment too late what Tony's trying to say and several very unfortunate things happen at once. The enormous grill at the stall she and Tony are standing closest to suddenly flares up and a wall of scorching heat sucks all the moisture out of the air around them as a small gaggle of children run by, a small girl in the front screaming one long shrill note. One of the boys in the middle of the pack fires off a noise-maker that lets out a _bang_ like a gunshot and Tony makes a horrible, strangled sound, his pupils blowing wide.

“Tony!” Pepper calls sharply. “Tony, stay with m—” but it's too late, he's already dropping to the ground, yanking her forward with him because he's still holding her hand in a vise-like grip.

Pepper grunts as they hit the ground, her sprawled on top of him, Tony's knee jabbing her in the stomach. She winces and he whimpers and jerks her up over him like a shield. His hands on her wrists are painful, bruising. Pepper's heart is pounding against the wall of her chest, but she knows what she has to do; this isn't the first flashback Tony's had and while it's always terrifying, she can handle it, _will_ handle it.

Pepper never uses endearments in public, but she knows during an episode she can't use Tony's name unless she wants to risk pressing him further into the memory. “Honey,” she says, raising her voice until she's yelling. “Honey, listen to me, it's Pepper. You are not in Afghanistan! It's two-thousand and thirteen!”

It's clear she's not getting through because his breathing grows harsher, his eyes darting back and forth like he's watching a scene play out before him, which, she supposes, he probably is. He's stopped moving though, frozen with his hands locked around her arms, his knees curled up to his chest. He can be dangerous like this, fighting for his life, so Pepper's grateful that this isn't one of the reenactment flashbacks—it would be a nightmare here, surrounded by all these people.

Who, she realizes, have cleared out in a wide circle around them, looking on and murmuring in low, anxious voices, things like, _Isn't that Tony Stark?_ _What's going on? Is he okay?_

“Hey,” a man says, his voice rising above the others, “you need help? Is this guy hurting you?”

Pepper gives a terribly timed wince as Tony's fingers dig painfully into the groove between the bones in her arm, but she grits her teeth and says, “No, I'm fine. We're fine, please, just keep everyone—”

A small group of men with firefighting equipment break through the crowd and Tony starts, kicks back away from them, panic warping his features. Pepper is dragged along with him and she hisses as the path scrapes her knees. “ _No!_ ” Tony yells, “No, don't!”

Then someone else says, “Pepper?” and she twists around, relief flooding through her. Steve is standing just a few feet away. His eyes dart away toward the flaming stall, but it looks like the volunteer firefighters are handling it and she can see him put it out of his mind to focus on her. “What do you need?” he says.

“Ice,” she says, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. Behind Steve, the owner of the stall with the grill scurries out holding out a red plastic cup filled to the brim with ice cubes. His eyes are wide and worried.

“Is he okay?” he says.

“He will be,” Pepper says and grabs a handful of the ice when Steve gets down on his knees and offers it to her, moving cautiously, his eyes on Tony. She can't get Tony's hands loose to put the cubes in his palm, so she settles for pressing them into his underarm.

Tony jerks, gasping. His eyes land on Pepper's face, and she can see when he starts to come back to reality. “Are you with me now?”

“Pepper?” he says and his voice is high, strung out with fear. His grip, which is already too tight, grows a little tighter and Pepper is careful not to wince.

“Yes, honey. It's twenty-thirteen. You're in Central Park in New York City. Fourth of July—Steve's birthday remember?” She reaches to the side with her free arm and curls her hand around Steve's broad forearm, leans to the side so Tony can see him. Steve is watching Tony with muted concern.

“You're not helping me stay young,” he says.

Tony's eyes drop and one hand loosens from around her wrist, moving to bat at the ice. “That's freezing,” he mumbles.

“I know, that's the idea. You should hold it,” Pepper tells him and slips the cubes into his palm, her own burning from the cold. She presses his hand against his stomach, just beneath the arc reactor so he can feel the edge of the device with his thumb. Tony glances down at the feel of it and flattens his hand over the reactor, letting the ice dribble into his lap. Some of the panic leeches out of his eyes.

“Okay. Okay,” he says, and starts a jittery, rambling list: “arc reactor, ice, Pepper, 's humid, not Afghanistan, not in the desert, there are trees, balloons, children, okay, we're fine, everything's fine, it's twenty-thirteen, _totally fine_.”

“Here,” Pepper says, and tugs the phone that's already half hanging out of his pocket into her hand. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Miss Potts,” comes JARVIS' voice, tinny from the speakers of the phone.

“I need you to talk to Tony for me,” she says and holds the phone out. Tony can't seem to decide if he wants to grab it with both hands or keep them exactly where they are, but he finally gives up his grip on her arm and accepts the phone with shaking fingers.

“Mister Stark?” JARVIS says and Tony swallows hard. He pulls the phone in close to his chest, the other hand still pressed over the arc reactor.

“JARVIS?” he says and sounds painfully, painfully relieved.

“I've been implementing the new programming for the Mark LV and I've come across a few things I'd like to run by you, sir.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony says and his voice only wobbles faintly. “Hit me.” Pepper starts to get to her feet to make arrangements—Tony isn't going to want to stay after this—but she's stopped by one of Tony's damp, ice-chilled hands on her wrist. He swallows and shakes his head, looking up at her with huge, dark eyes, even as he says, “Uh-huh, thirty percent, right.”

Pepper pauses, pushes aside her automatic dismissal, which favors the _doing_ , but not necessarily what Tony needs. The latter is more important than her precarious sense of control. She settles onto her knees, trying to understand the silent request in Tony's eyes.

“Maybe if we switch the lines,” Tony is saying and leans forward a little, reaches around the back of her head. Pepper frowns until she feels his fingers pluck at the elastic band holding her hair back. He's staring down into her lap, but his eyes dart up for a split-second and abruptly she understands. She reaches back herself and pulls the band free with a practiced twist of her wrist. Her hair tumbles down around her shoulders, immediately causing sweat to spring up along the back of her neck and it must look ridiculous with the warp from the pressure of the tie, but Tony doesn't want to look. A cloud of her sweet-smelling shampoo spreads around her like an invisible halo and Tony scooches forward in the dirt. He wraps an arm around her waist, hooks one leg around her backside, and then pulls her close enough that she can feel the deep breath he takes all along her torso. Tony stops moving after that, curled around her as he replies to JARVIS in mumbled positives or negatives, his forehead pressed to her neck.

Pepper does her best not to belie the fact that she's fighting tears.

Her experience is fraught, hard-won. She hasn't always known what was best to do for Tony, when what was best was to do nothing. She wears different scents now, because the olfactory sense is linked strongest to memory, and just inhaling the relative newness of her shampoo can be enough to ground Tony. Even if he can't be sure of her voice, he knows the new smell of her means he can't be in Afghanistan. Sometimes when nothing else can pull him back, just getting close and letting her hair down can be the tipping point.

Someone touches her hand and Pepper pulls herself out of her thoughts to find Steve crouched at Tony's shoulder, his eyes on her. “You okay?” he mouths.

Pepper smiles tremulously and strokes the back of Tony's neck. “Fine,” she mouths back and Steve watches her for a few more long seconds before nodding and rolling gracefully to his feet. Now that she's looking, Pepper realizes that they're surrounded by the other Avengers, each quietly, but firmly directing people away from them. She watches Clint accept a watermelon wedge on a stick from a woman and feels Tony sniff; her skin is growing tacky with perspiration where his forehead is resting against her neck. Tony has gone quiet, which means he's come back to himself enough that his self-consciousness is starting to kick in.

“Hey,” Clint says, stepping behind her and crouching so that he's angled toward Tony's face. “Stark. I don't want to pull you out of your happy place or whatever, but I got this for you.”

Tony makes a discontented noise and huffs, but he lifts his head. “This had better be good, Robin Hood.” Clint holds out the watermelon and Tony stares for a second. “What the fuck, Barton,” he says, at last. “You pick now of all times to bring me food?”

“You're not out of the woods yet, asshole,” Clint drawls, unimpressed by Tony's attitude. “It's to keep you grounded.”

“Oh,” Tony mutters. Reluctantly, he reaches up to take the offering. He waits until Clint's retreated before closing his mouth around the tip of the wedge. Pepper shivers as an icy drop of juice hits her shoulder, despite Tony sucking at the fruit, trying to keep the process neat. He slurps at the fresh bite and says, “Whoops, sorry, Pep. Here, let me—”

Then his mouth, lips icy and tongue hot, seals itself to her shoulder as he licks the juice from her skin. Pepper's fingers tighten. “ _Tony_ ,” she chastises and feels his slowly warming lips curve in a smile.

“Yes, Pep?” he says, innocent as can be. Then just as casually, “Watermelon and Pepper is a great combination, for future reference.”

“I'll make a note of it,” she says dryly. “Are you ready to go then?”

Tony kind of twitches and Pepper immediately regrets reminding him why they are where they are. He takes another bite of the watermelon and lets his head nestle into the curve of her neck. “Can't we just stay here?” he mutters. “Barton'll bring us food.”

Pepper wraps him in a hug and allows herself a small, sad smile. “Don't be silly. Between your knees and my back, we'll be in agony in less than twenty minutes.”

Tony snorts and she can see him waggling the watermelon on a stick, having already lost interest. “Getting old sucks.”

“Some parts,” Pepper grants him and catches Steve's eye. “Come on, Steve will help you to the car.”

“I had a _flashback_ , I didn't break my legs,” Tony snaps, bristling in an instant, and he pulls away from her. “I don't need _Steve_ to help me walk.” Pepper grimaces and lets him yank himself free. Steve stands close enough to catch him if he looks like he's going to fall, but doesn't move to help Tony, knowing it will only make him angrier as he staggers to his feet, muscles weak and not quite responding after the flood of adrenaline.

Tony straightens, points the watermelon at her. “See? I'm not an _invalid._ ”

Pepper looks up at him, calls upon her deep reservoirs of patience. “No one said you were, Tony.”

He lifts his chin, looking down his nose at her in defiance. Then out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve move and he whips around, the watermelon cutting through the air like a sword. “Don't touch me,” he snarls. “Don't you _fucking_ touch me.”

Steve frowns at him. “I wasn't going to,” he says and reaches out his hand for Pepper to take, which she does gratefully, pressing into his grip as she pushes up, straightening stiff and protesting knees. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and hates the way she can see when Tony realizes he's being ridiculous and drops his hand, self-loathing darting across his face. God, and everything had been going so _well_ today. They'd been so happy just a half hour ago.

Pepper reaches out for his hand, but she's unsurprised when he shakes his head and tosses the half a remaining watermelon slice into a nearby trash can so he can shove his hands into his pockets. “I'm outta here. You kids have fun.”

That makes Pepper step forward to say firmly, “I'm going with you, Tony.”

Steve has already fallen into step beside him and the second Tony notices, his hackles go up and he spins on his heel, practically throws himself at Steve to shove him back. “Goddamn it, _no_ ,” he snarls, then sees Steve's startled expression and his own fists held out in front of him. He swallows hard and visibly draws back, flutters his hands without any real sense of conviction. “Sorry, _fuck._ Look. Just—stay here,” he says, his voice giving with the strain of trying to sound like he's fine. “Have a good time, okay? Tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Tony, I don't want to stay,” Steve says. “I'm not going to celebrate without my best friend.”

Behind him, Bruce shrugs and his mouth quirks in a shy half-smile. “This isn't really my thing, you know that. I came for the company.”

“It's too hot for this shit,” Clint adds. “Rather watch from the Tower.”

“I've seen enough,” Natasha says with a half-shrug.

Thor dips his head in a near bow and says, “Jane and I will be happy to tell you of the day's festivities when we return.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jane says, nodding, her eyes wide. “Absolutely.”

“Guys,” Tony whines and he looks absolutely desperate. “No—you're supposed to have _fun_ today, goddamn it. Steve, it's your fucking _birthday,_ for Christ's sake, that was the whole point—”

“Do you think you can stop cursing then? At least cut _back?_ ” Steve says, crossing his arms and starting to look annoyed.

“ _That's_ exactly why you should stay!” Tony yells, gesturing frantically. “I'm just going to ruin everything, Jesus, that's what I _do!_ I just fuc—” He cuts himself off, covering his mouth with his hand. Before anyone can say a word, he takes off for the entrance of the park.

Pepper sighs and lets him go. She's certain Happy is waiting for him just outside the park entrance and Pepper knows he won't let Tony go off on his own knowing he's had an episode. Tony's going to want to go home anyway. “I'm sorry,” she says to the others and Clint's brow furrows slightly.

“Why the hell are you sorry? If anyone should be sorry, it's Tony, but he's fucked in the head,” he says and shrugs. “We get it. Happens to all of us.” Clint pauses, giving her a once over and adds, “Are _you_ okay?”

Pepper gives him a shaky smile. “It's not how I would have liked to spend the day, but what can I do?” She shrugs helplessly. “I love him. All of him.”

Steve smiles, subdued, but genuine, and brushes a light hand down her back. “That's more than enough, Pepper.”

~

When they arrive back at the Tower, JARVIS confirms that Tony has made it back and shut himself up in their room. Pepper thanks the others and tells them to enjoy the rest of their day and then heads upstairs. “How is he doing?” she asks JARVIS, slipping out of her sandals as the elevator makes its way to the penthouse.

“Mister Stark arrived home eleven minutes ago. He consumed approximately three ounces of Johnnie Walker and then attempted to do some work in the lab. I believe he was unable to focus and as a result, he smashed one of the lab windows with a wrench before retreating to your quarters.”

Pepper sighs. “So not well.”

“No, Miss Potts. Not well at all, I'm afraid.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” she says and the elevator doors slide open. She shivers as she steps out, the tile icy on her bare feet. Tony frequently cranks the air conditioning up after he's had an episode—the worse the flashback, the lower the temperature, so this one must have been pretty bad.

She half expects the door to be locked when she reaches for the handle, but it turns under her hand and she opens it slowly, peering around the door. Every light in the room is on and Tony is lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. She's slipping the door shut behind her when Tony croaks, “I don't want to talk.”

Pepper nods. “Okay.” She crosses her arms and tips her head toward the bed even though she knows he can't see it. “May I join you?”

“Sure,” Tony mutters and rolls onto his side, curls up.

Pepper pads across the room and pulls back the comforter to slide beneath it. She drapes her hair up over the pillow and lies down on her side, facing Tony's back.

She lies there, watching his shoulders shift with each breath, watching the shadows shift across the floor as the sun moves overhead, wonders how the afternoon could have gone, the way she and Tony could have shared the watermelon, his mouth on her shoulder again, pressing promises into her skin. She wonders what the others would have gotten up to, what it would have been like, sitting on the grass later and listening to the band, watching the fireworks light up New York from inside its very heart. She would have liked to have seen Steve through the day, seen what he chose to put in his sketchpad. Pepper wishes for that perfect fourth of July even though she doesn't regret one minute spent here with Tony.

It's dark now outside and the first flashes of fireworks color the shadows red and blue.

Tony's breaths are warm and gentle on her throat, the contrast with air cold enough to numb the tip of her nose making her shiver. The kisses start slow, Tony's lips brushing over her skin as he shifts before they become intentional, pressing softly against her pulse. Her heart jumps when he opens his mouth, hot and wet on her collarbone, the colors of the fireworks a kaleidoscope on her eyelids.

“Tony,” she whispers, breathless, and he nuzzles her neck, lays one of those feather-light kisses beneath her ear. Then he leans his forehead into her jaw and simply breathes, his body a warm blanket over hers.

“Pepper,” he murmurs eventually, “I... I can't—”

She turns her head, forcing him to pull his face out of her neck and she drags him into a kiss, pressing deep into his mouth until he groans, his hands tight around her shoulders. “I don't care,” she says breathlessly when she finally releases him. “It's all right, Tony.”

The room is filled with light as several shows reach their finales simultaneously. A rainbow of colors plays across the planes and lines of half Tony's face, but even the shadows are touched with hints of blue and green and purple.

Then the fireworks are over and the room dark and quiet.

“Fuck,” Tony says suddenly, and then more vehemently, “ _fuck.”_ He shoves his way upright. _“_ I didn't give Steve his present. Shit! JARVIS, is Steve still up?”

“Indeed, sir. He and the rest of the Avengers watched the fireworks from the penthouse balcony. They are still conversing.”

Tony stills for a moment, realizing he'll have to confront them all if he's going to give Steve his gift. Then his fingers tighten around the bedclothes and he throws them back, swinging his legs out of the bed. He flinches back when his toes touch the icy floor, his shoulders hunching against a shiver. “Jesus, it's freezing, I think I've got the picture, J, knock it down a few notches, will you?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony scrubs his arms and gets to his feet. When he turns back and sees Pepper still lying under the covers watching him, he says, “Hey, come on, you're not gonna make me go out there alone, are you?”

Pepper tilts her head, and wrinkles her nose, pretending to think about it.

“You are not!” Tony cries and yanks back the covers to capture her around the hips and drag her to the edge of the beds.

Pepper lets out a peal of laughter and says, “Okay, okay, I'll go!”

“That's right you will,” Tony mutters and then turns and crouches, offering his back. “C'mon, you'll get frostbite if you touch this floor.”

“Such noble sacrifice,” Pepper says, looping her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I'm just that great,” Tony says and wraps his hands around her thighs, hiking her up. It doesn't have the usual air of oozing certainty, but if he's ready to try, she won't call him on it. Pepper smiles into his hair as he carries her out of the bedroom. “Where did I put his present anyway?”

Pepper sighs because Tony's gift-giving abilities leave something to be desired. “It's in the closet in the hallway. I moved it because it was staring at me.”

Tony looks back over his shoulder at her. “You moved it? All by yourself? Wow, Pep, that's impressive. I'm impressed.”

“Thank you,” Pepper replies dryly.

He carries her all the way to the hall closet and then says, “Sorry, Pep, I can only carry one of you. Down you go.”

She slides to the floor and crosses her arms, watching as he opens the closet, revealing the plaster replica of Michelangelo's _David_ Tony decided would be the perfect gift. It wouldn't be so terrible, except it's not an _exact_ replica, which might actually be something an artist would appreciate—the face has been resculpted to look exactly like Steve. It's also been rather better endowed than the original and Pepper can't look at it without feeling a rush of embarrassment.

Tony looks at her as he wraps his arms around the statue's groin, thankfully blocking it from her view, grunting as he hefts it onto his shoulder. “It's perfect. He's going to love it. Can you throw a sheet over it or something, so it's a surprise?”

Pepper smothers the urge to tell him how unlikely it is that Steve will appreciate this particular gift and fetches the sheet, carefully spreading it over the form to hide it from view, and accepting his kiss of thanks. Then Tony takes a deep breath, looking in the direction of the balcony and says, “Okay, let's do this.”

They have to go down a flight of curved steps and across thirty yards of living space before they get to the balcony and by the end, Tony's out of breath. He hefts the statue outside where the others are scattered around lounging and looking out at the stray fireworks popping up all over the city and sets it down with a _thonk_ that stops all conversation. In the ensuing silence, the sound of his panting breaths is enough to make Pepper nervous, too.

Tony takes a second, hands on his knees, and Steve's brow furrows in concern.

“Tony?”

He starts to get up and Tony waves him back down, pushing off his knees and throwing his head back.

“I'm fine,” he declares, despite his still too-heavy breathing. Then he shakes it off with one last deep breath and says, “I almost forgot to give you your gift.”

Steve blinks at him. “You got me a gift?”

Tony looks scandalized. “It's your birthday, of course I got you a gift, what kind of savage do you think I am?”

That garners a frown, but Steve says, “Tony, you didn't have to do that—”

“Obviously, but I did, so—” He waves his hand. “Come and open it up.”

Pepper hears Clint mutter to Bruce as Steve gets to his feet, “This is gonna be good.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve says, setting a beer down as he approaches the gift.

“Don't thank me yet,” Tony says, “you haven't even opened it. Go on.” He flinches a little bit as fireworks go off with several bangs not too far from the Tower, but no one acknowledges it.

Pepper covers her mouth as Steve reaches for the sheet and tugs it away.

It falls in a slow, dramatic ripple, dropping to the floor where it flutters in the breeze, caught under the statue base. For a moment, every one is silent.

Then Clint makes a choking, hacking sound that Pepper _knows_ is a laugh he's trying to smother. Natasha's eyebrows rise and she says, “Is that an accurate representation?”

Much to Pepper's surprise, it's Bruce who bursts out laughing and he gets going until he's crying with it, curled over with his hands wrapped around his stomach.

Even in the dim lights from the city, Pepper can see the deep flush on Steve's cheeks. “Um. Wow, Tony. Thank you?”

Tony frowns, planting his fists on his hips. “What are you laughing at, Shaggy?”

Bruce shakes his head and waves a hand, but he's laughing so hard he can barely breathe, Clint behind him with his hand over his face, shaking with his own giggles. Natasha's mouth is curled in a small, but genuine smile of mirth.

Tony scowls at all of them and then proceeds to ignore them, turning his attention to a baffled-looking Steve. “So do you like it? It's good, right?”

Steve stares at him for a moment and then, very carefully, says, “It sure is something, Tony.”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighs, and hooks a hand around his neck, pulling him down so she can press a kiss to the side of his head. “I love you, you absolute lunatic.”

This may not be the way she expected her life to turn out, and it may not be perfect, but Pepper wouldn't trade it for anything.


End file.
